


February was so long that it lasted into March

by drinkingstars



Category: Actor RPF, Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF, Scottish Actor RPF, Teen Wolf (TV) RPF
Genre: Age Difference, Anxiety, Barebacking, Developing Relationship, Enthusiastic consent is my kink, First Dates, First Meetings, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Los Angeles, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Safer Sex, but it’s not a kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:27:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25584394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drinkingstars/pseuds/drinkingstars
Summary: He honestly didn’t believe, up until this very text, that this might actually be happening.
Relationships: Froy Gutierrez/Richard Madden
Comments: 10
Kudos: 54





	February was so long that it lasted into March

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again, I seem to have written over 12,000 words about the early days of a couple we have never seen interact except for walking.
> 
> This is all pre-quarantine, basically right up to the beginning of [this fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24906865), with a little overlap if you squint.
> 
> Thank you Freddia and wearemany and sorry my html got all borked in here.

_Just landed xo_

Froy stares at the text sitting on his phone when he checks it, finished with less than half his workout, already taking a break and guzzling water. He wipes some sweat from his forehead and squints down at the words again. 

He honestly didn’t believe, up until this very text, that this might actually be happening. 

Weeks of thirsty DMs and flirting over text, mostly when they seemed to have downtimes or be bored on set, was one thing. It was fine, but that could be all it was. He liked a post one day, then he got a follow and followed back, then Richard Madden slid into his DMs. Sure. Froy played along. 

They had fun. They did that for a while, and that was probably that.

That he, Richard Madden (ok, you have to stop thinking of him as _Richard Madden_ now if you’re going to meet him) had actually followed through on texting Froy when he landed in LA was...well, ok. 

He narrows his eyes, swipes away a drop of sweat that falls to the screen of his phone, and taps as he thinks. He doesn’t want to seem too eager, though Richard has already seen right through him even via text, and knows exactly how eager he is. 

Richard, incredibly, seems just as much. 

Froy has seen his cocky side and his insecure side. They don’t know each other well, exactly, but he knows he doesn’t want to leave Richard hanging, and wondering. And he is definitely curious, intrigued...enough to drive across the whole city to meet him in person, at least. And he _actually texted._

Froy bites his lip as he types.

_welcome back :)_

Not too eager, but definitely not cool. Fine. He hits send before he can second guess himself, or the smiley face, puts his phone back and finishes the harder part of his workout. He tries to focus on his reps, on flexion and extension, and not get so distracted thinking about _Richard Madden_ on his stupid phone that he pulls something. It’s fine. He’s _fine._ He gets through it all, even the annoying second set of calf raises. 

He’s good and sweaty, takes the time to stretch properly, and is on his way to take a shower when he caves and checks his phone again.

_Customs was a breeze. Made it to house already. All well. Going to sleep a couple hours i think? If you still want to hang out...whenever, is cool._

Froy is really glad no one is around to see the cheesy smile on his face. 

_sure...send address if you want. I can leave after traffic?_ Not too eager. Good. Solid.

_Ah. Of course. Here’s address:_

Richard sends a location right away. 

This is really happening, then. Froy’s face feels flushed like fire suddenly, his sweaty hair still dripping on his neck. Froy nods to himself, to his phone, his brain going a mile a minute. 

_sounds good. text when I’m on my way?_ He grins uncontrollably as he hits send and starts kicking off his shorts, hopping his way toward the shower.

_Yes pls. Really...can’t wait to see you xo_

“Whaaaaat is happening?” He asks himself in the mirror, watches it steam up a bit as the water gets hot. “What the _fuck_ ,” he says out loud, and pulls back the shower curtain to try to get himself ready.

* * *

Richard texts him while he’s getting dressed. _Didn’t sleep very long. Think I’m awake now…_

The _dot dot dot_ gets Froy’s heart hammering. He looks down at the clothes he’s put on, and it’s instantly all wrong. He eyes his open closet and spots three different shirts he wants, and then wonders if he needs an overnight bag. A bag seems _way_ too eager? 

He hits the location from Richard’s text and opens it...solid red freeways crisscrossing most of the city. He sighs, spiraling, still thinking about the overnight bag. He pulls off what he’s wearing and changes his shirt, then takes the first shirt and puts it in his bag. The sheer unpredictability of Los Angeles weather in February is justification enough to bring a few different layers, he reasons. He grabs a few more things. Underwear. Toothbrush? Yes, toothbrush, don’t be weird. It’s fine.

He packs his things, feeds his fish, and sits down a minute to breathe. When he feels more centered, he looks at his phone again.

_ok cool. will head that way in a bit :)_

Totally fine. Not eager! He cringes as he hits send. He is leaving this _second_ , but it’s going to take ages.

* * *

He’s barely through downtown when his phone rings through the bluetooth, and it can only be one person calling him when he’s calmly, cooly trying to cross town for a probable hookup with a ridiculously hot actor (who she _definitely_ knows from tv, oh _god)_ without having an anxiety attack about it. 

“Hi mom,” Froy says, trying to sound nonchalant. He feels the exact opposite, inching past Western now. 

“Are you driving?” she asks, like always. He grumbles a bit and turns the music down.

“Yes but it’s fine, I’m in traffic and barely moving. What’s up?” 

“Nothing, just hadn’t talked to you today. Saying hi. So, where ya going?” she asks, innocently enough but Froy feels sort of trapped. He...should tell _someone_ he’s going to a man’s house whom he’s never met, right? But he’s definitely not telling her _this_. It’s probably just going to be a hookup and he’ll never see him again...not worth getting into and freaking his mom out. But still…

“Um, I’m going to hang out with somebody...a friend. Kinda.” He scrunches his face up while he tries to think his way through what he wants to say.

“A friend...kinda,” she repeats slowly, in full skeptical mom voice.

“Yeah, like...I know them, but we haven’t properly met. Yet?” He tries.

“So...like a blind date?” she asks, following along. She is always one step ahead of him, damn.

“Kind of, yeah. Just hanging out. Not really a date,”

“With a guy?” she pushes, gently, for a bit more info. She wasn’t terribly surprised when Froy announced he was dating guys sometimes, and didn’t have a problem with it—she just had _mom_ questions, and a somewhat annoying attachment to at least one of Froy’s exes. 

“Yeah...yeah it is a guy. I don’t know if it’s a date. I mean we might get some food, I guess, since it’s dinnertime?”

“Ok, so...you’re going to meet him, but no real plan.”

“Exactly.” Froy agrees and kind of hopes that’s the end of it.

“Froylan, I do hope you’re dating people who at least take you to dinner first—”

“Oh my _god_ , mom, _stop_ _._ Yes we’re going to have dinner. Happy?”

“Do your friends know him? Did they set you up?”

Froy is caught for a moment, his focus pulled between changing lanes and walking right into a trap his mom is laying.

“Um, no, not like that. We just like, met and talked a lot. Online, because he was working far away—”

“He’s an actor too?” she pounces right on that tidbit. Of course he has mostly dated other actors. Who else is he going to meet? 

“Yes, he’s an actor too, and that’s all you’re getting. Look I promise it’s ok and I’m safe and we will be having dinner, ok? And it’s probably not even a big deal,” he adds, probably sounding a little whiny. He feels a little whiny.

“Ok hon. But if it _is_ a big deal, you’ll tell me?”

Froy squirms in his seat and nods emphatically through the phone. “Of course. Yep, sure will.”

“Ok. Well make good choices—”

_“Mom.”_

“And have fun. And drop me a pin when you get there,” she adds in a quick rush at the end, like he won’t notice. 

Froy laughs. “I...ok, yes I can do that. Te quiero, mami,” he says sweetly, trying to wrap it up and eying the freeway, La Cienega coming up quickly as traffic starts to move. 

“Awww, yes you’re very cute. Text me when you get home. Even if it’s tomorrow,” she says, just a little teasing in her voice.

“Goodbye mom, love you, hasta la proxima,” he tries again.

“Love you Froylan,” she finally laughs and lets him go for real. He feels warm, and only mildly annoyed, and knows how lucky he is with her.

“Thanks mom, love you too,” he says and finally hangs up, turns Ariana Grande back up as he speeds through Culver City.

He avoids the 405 and gets there in pretty decent time, all things considered. 

And then it’s just him and his nerves, sitting outside a strange address in Venice Beach.

* * *

Froy sits in the quiet car, engine and music turned off, closes his eyes for a moment and just breathes. He’s excited, and anxious, and prone to getting overly worked up over things, over people. He tells himself to just be himself, because Richard has certainly found him likable just how he is over the past couple of months, and that was without the benefit of having each other there physically. 

Physically, he has never seen a man so attractive in his life, and he can’t believe he is about to see him in the flesh (and touch him? He’s definitely going to touch him. Oh god.) His brain starts to spiral on that and his heart is beating too fast already. His dick seems to pick up on the vibes that something exciting is happening, and oh _fuck_ should he have jerked off before he left? Because that would be _way_ inconvenient right now. Ok, breathe, again, you’re fine, you’re likable, you’re doing this. When he gets his breathing slowed, and his heart seems to follow, he lets his eyelids flutter open, and picks up his phone.

_Gate code: 719437. in case I fall asleep again xo_

Froy lets out a long, slow breath, and texts back. _I’m here now. Coming up…_

The sleek glass door and its shiny recessed security keypad glint at him in the late afternoon sun. He looks at his phone, and works out how to enter the digits in, and feels the electromagnetic hum against his palm when the locking mechanism releases.

 _“Cool,"_ he says softly under his breath, because he’s a _fucking dork_ _,_ he thinks, that part of his brain that gets in his way doing its best to prevent him from turning the handle. He shakes it off, last chance, and pushes the door open.

Across a short, concrete sculpted, garden walkway, in the entryway of _already the coolest fucking house, what is even happening right now_ _,_ is the most gorgeous man Froy has ever seen.

He’s barefoot, and beautiful, leaning against the frosted glass of the door and smiling at him, his face changing as they take each other in, and Froy is somewhat speechless for maybe the first time in his life.

“You’re actually here,” Richard says, after what feels like an eternity of just staring at each other from way too many feet away. 

The tone of his voice in person, so different than over the phone the few times they’ve used it, settles into Froy’s nervous system, seems to fit like key pins in a lock. He tilts his head, figuring out if he’s ready to take a step forward yet.

“I’m here...we’re actually...wow,” Froy says, all he can manage before he stammers a bit, feels his cheeks flush. He still feels frozen, like if he takes a step too fast he will topple right over but he has to, _has_ to, get closer to him.

“Wow...I…” Richard seems stuck too, bites on the inside of his lip and holds one hand out in welcoming, in offering, and that helps so much. Froy is finally, somehow, close enough to take it and he does, Richard’s hand warm and strong, his palm soft. Their fingers sift together and Froy steps in closer, close enough to smell him and feel the warmth of Richard’s chest against him, breathing hard like he has been all day, waiting for this moment and not having a clue what to do now that it’s here.

“Oh, fuck, it is just so good to _see_ you,” Richard says as Froy lets himself be pulled all the way into a hug, their hands still clasped together between them and Froy can feel every single nerve ending in his fingers he didn’t even know he had, every place they touch.

“It is, it’s so good,” he tries to agree with Richard, tells himself he’s hugging him and saying it in his ear but what happens is, what happens is he kisses him instead, Froy’s lips just alight on Richard’s and it’s _perfect._

It’s sweet and soft, it’s hot and full of promise, it’s months of text threads about everything and nothing and getting to know his weird moods and his favorite songs and his pet peeves and his turn-ons and _him_ and now he is finally kissing him right on the mouth and they’re not even inside the door.

“Ohhh my god,” Froy says when they come apart for a moment and Richard looks a little stunned, a little panicked. “I’m...should I have waited, to do that, sor—”

“God no, I’m so glad you did,” Richard murmurs all at once and immediately comes back to his lips for more, Froy feeling himself go warm and nervy all over. Richard’s lips are lush and assured, and his body feels unreal against his, and Froy is in _so_ much fucking trouble. 

He holds on and lets himself be held, feels the frankly unnerving amount of strength that courses through Richard’s arms wrapping around his back and waist. He feels light as air, like Richard could lift him right off the ground and not even break their kiss. 

He doesn’t, though. Froy’s feet stay grounded, even if his head has separated from his body for a moment. Richard slowly pulls back, his lips dragging against Froy’s like he doesn’t want to let go. Froy can’t think, can’t open his eyes just yet, chasing the tingling sensation of Richard’s mouth. He touches his lip with his own tongue, bites it back and slowly blinks his eyes open. Richard’s face is still tilted into his, his eyes also softly closed. He hums, quietly, pulls Froy closer.

“Should we, um,” Froy fumbles for a complete thought and Richard’s shoulders shake with gentle laughter.

“I dunno what you’re going to say, but sure,” he says, that accent and voice washing over Froy’s senses again. He has to take a long, steady breath, fill his lungs with air before he can return Richard’s kind eyes with a laugh.

“Dinner? I was going to say dinner,” Froy pulls out of nowhere. He focuses his eyes again, watches Richard carefully as he processes.

“Yes! Yes.” Richard says, his face blinking open all at once with realization. “I’m actually starving. I also...don’t know quite what day it is. So, have to apologize in advance if I fade on you.”

“You can fade on me,” Froy says before he even knows what’s come out of his mouth.

Richard laughs, “oh, cheeky, I see,” bows his head a little toward Froy’s chest, and Froy makes room for him, holds Richard’s head against him and yeah, he is _so_ fucked.

“You going to show me around this insane house?” Froy says after a beat where he’s not sure if Richard may have already faded on him, as promised.

Richard rustles to alertness, lifts up. “Err, no, let’s go get supper first. There’s no food here, and if you come inside this house now, I can’t guarantee we’re leaving again for a reasonable meal,” he says with a wink, rumbles a kiss against Froy’s lips. “Be right back, let me get my stuff.” 

Froy lets him go only begrudgingly, peering after him as he disappears back inside. When he’s sure he’s safely out of sight, Froy presses his hands over his eyes, rubs his cheekbones with his palms to calm himself. He feels everything too much, and all at once, and they’ve only just _kissed._ But it felt...heavy, and good, and right, and inevitable. Like he was meant to do this. 

And that makes no sense somehow but he has to center himself, and be present and be a good dinner date and not freak out now. He likes him so much. He thinks Richard likes him too _what the fuck is even happening_ he kind of starts spiraling again when Richard comes back outside, thank god, with a nondescript baseball cap on his head, shoes and wallet in his hand. He shoves his feet into his shoes, pulls on a light jacket and pockets the wallet, and smiles at Froy from the porch. “Do you need a jacket? It’ll get chilly soon.”

“I, uh, have one in the car,” Froy kind of bumbles his words, thinking back to his spinout over bringing an overnight bag and recalling that he did in fact bring like three changes of clothes. _So fucked!_ That little voice inside his brain repeats and he pushes it aside, joins Richard at the gate and passes close up against him as they go out to the sidewalk.

“There’s a really good vegetarian place, super close. Kinda like...pasta with meatless balls. And veggie burgers?” Richard asks, tentatively touching the back of Froy’s hand. Froy doesn’t expect to hold hands or anything as they walk—Abbot Kinney is busy with people going into the gym and the yoga places, ducking into restaurants like them, or waiting in line at the weed store—he just enjoys the contact as their arms brush softly.

“Yeah, that sounds great. Haven’t had a good veggie burger in a while,” he smiles at Richard and tries not to feel awkward. It’s a first date, it’s going to be awkward, a different voice reminds him in the far corners of his mind. “Do you have to keep up the crazy food restrictions?” he asks. They had talked about this at length when Richard was still working out at 4am in London, sometimes sending him a very _tasteful_ photo of some sweaty, isolated muscle group, if he was lucky. He always stared at them for a while, then deleted them from the cloud.

Richard shakes his head, shrugging a half-hearted no. “I mean...I can’t go fully off, just in case. I have to try to keep most of this mass. They’ll hook me up with a trainer here, I suppose. But, I happen to know they have my favorite pasta here, and I’m getting my first proper cheat carb right now, with you.”

“Well, I’m honored,” Froy says, grinning ear to ear.

“You should be. Tis a big moment,” Richard grins back.

“Although,” Froy says, biting his bottom lip as he teases this out. “You eat a big plate of pasta right now...you’re absolutely going to pass out by 8pm.”

“Oh, probably. Highly likely. Going to have wine, too,” Richard beams, pointing the way at the corner up ahead.

“Wine and pasta, oh shit, look out. I’m carrying you home, huh.” Froy says, keeping up.

“Aye, maybe...takes me about a day to get right again. Maybe should’ve not had you come ‘til tomorrow,” Richard muses, a little regrettably but not serious, Froy can tell.

“To be honest...I wouldn’t have been able to wait any longer,” Froy says, feels his cheeks flush a bit pink at the admission. He looks up at Richard, his face relaxed and his eyes kind, but tired. Richard nods, agrees, softly.

“I couldn’t wait either,” Richard says. He sways a bit, leans in close and Froy shivers with just the anticipation that he might be about to kiss his cheek, right here in the open. He doesn’t, but it’s ok. He holds Richard’s eye just a moment, instead, waits for him to break and turn away, then follows him in.

It’s California, and everything is open air, late winter light and chill music. Froy remembers, looking at the menu, that he promised his mom a pin, and quickly drops her one from the restaurant, so she can actually _see_ he’s being properly wined and dined. 

They each order a different red wine, and Froy silently prays he doesn’t get carded...he doesn’t, miraculously. It would be _fine,_ Richard knows how old he is; he’d just rather not have all that literally on the table between them on their very first date. His mom sends him back a thumbs-up emoji, and he smiles and puts his phone away.

He decides on the pad thai, because it sounds less messy to eat than a veggie burger, honestly. Richard gets his spaghetti and vegetarian bolognese, which sounds amazing too.

“You can have a bite. Maybe.” Richard winks at him, and it’s deadly. They pick up their glasses and do a cheesy little clink. “To being here? Yeah, to being here,” Richard suggests and then agrees with himself, which Froy finds charming. Ugh.

“Absolutely,” Froy agrees, and takes a sip. “And to you for finishing the thing, obviously,” he adds and Richard heaves a dramatic exhale at that.

“Yes. God. I mean I’m sure there’ll be something to reshoot but, I need to be done with all that, for a little while.”

“That shoot was crazy. I don’t know how you kept that schedule up,” Froy says.

Richard shrugs. “It’s fine, I’m done for now. What about you, did you get that script you were talking about?”

Froy kind of rolls his eyes at that. “Yeah, I got two scripts last week. I don’t know... I threw the first one in the recycling bin.”

Richard laughs. “Diva. You going to call your agent and yell at them?”

“Maybe! I don’t think he knows which one I am. He has like 40 clients, I’m not that interesting.”

“I think you’re very interesting,” Richard retorts.

“No, you think I’m hot,” Froy says and licks his lips, meets Richard’s eyes with a challenging look.

“I think you’re hot, and cute, and interesting. And you need a new agent,” Richard says, sitting back with his glass of wine and glancing around.

“Are we going to do that LA thing where we just talk about our agents?”

“Gross, no. Let’s not,” Richard says, his eyes crinkling as he laughs. “Tell me something else,” Richard says. “I can put you in touch with someone at my agency though,” he adds at the last second, seemingly unable to help himself.

“No, we’re not doing that either,” Froy swipes back.

“Doing what?” Richard asks innocently.

“Hollywood sugar daddy,” Froy laughs, takes another sip of his wine. “God it’d be bad enough if people found out we’re…” he barely catches himself before saying something stupid. 

“Having dinner?” Richard suggests, again, the face of innocence.

“Exactly,” Froy says.

“God, you are really fucking cute,” Richard says abruptly.

Froy is caught off guard, cocks his head at him dubiously. “That wine working for you?” he asks.

Richard nods. “It is. But, uh, you are too.”

Froy shakes his head and looks down at his glass.

“Ok. Tell me what you like to do in LA. Besides cruise young actors,” Froy says, jabs his tongue in his cheek, pleased with himself. Richard balks in mock offense, but Froy is finding his footing and enjoying himself _so_ much.

Their food comes, and Richard talks about his favorite hiking trails in Topanga. They both love Griffith Park, and it’s kind of sort of halfway between them, spread out at opposite ends of Los Angeles. Maybe they could meet there some time, Richard says.

It’s...nice. 

The pad thai is light and bright with green herbs, just what he wanted, and Richard’s pasta is savory and comforting. Froy steals a few more bites of it than he should, and Richard looks oddly charmed every time he takes a bite from his plate. 

It’s...very nice. 

They finish their wine and Richard grabs the check before Froy even has a chance to look at it. 

“Such a gentleman,” he teases lightly and Richard throws him a positively devilish wink. 

“We’ll see about that,” he says, and Froy almost gasps. He is most _definitely_ fucked.

Froy clears his throat, tries to regain his composure. “Thank you for dinner.”

“Of course. Been so looking forward to this. To you,” he says and Froy feels himself blush a little, again. Damn. “Alright, let’s get back to the house before I turn into a pumpkin, here,” Richard says, a sleepy drawl dragging at the edges of his voice. Froy nods and pulls himself together, follows Richard out. 

Feeling bold, Froy places a tentative hand at the small of his back. Richard looks back over his shoulder and smiles.

* * *

Richard punches in the code and opens the door for Froy. He’s trying to keep up the gentlemanly bit until they get inside, it seems, but Froy feels his eyes on him already, and then his hand slipping over his hip as he moves past him into the house. Richard kicks off his shoes so Froy does the same, glances around at the dramatic architecture, but mostly keeps his eyes intent on Richard’s.

“Do you want a tour of the house?” Richard asks, rubbing his hand along his own jaw and stepping up into Froy’s space. Froy takes a breath, waiting that last tiny moment to kiss him again, just to savor it, the wanting, like he hasn’t already been waiting for weeks, months to get to do this.

“Not really,” he finally says, smiles and leans into Richard’s mouth like he means it. Richard groans and slides his hands around Froy’s back, down over the curve of his ass and settles them there. Froy grins at the response, slides just the tip of his tongue along Richard’s lip, Richard’s slight stubble scratching along his chin as he tilts his head to deepen the kiss even more. Froy thinks he’ll enjoy getting used to that.

Richard moves them both, pushes his hips against Froy’s there in the entryway and keeps kissing him, guiding them along through a massive front room with walls of glass and books, opening uninterrupted into the kitchen.

“Sorry,” Richard says when he stops kissing him for just a moment. “It’s a long house. You’re going to see some of it anyway. Kitchen…” Richard says, taking Froy by the hand now and pulling him through. “Water?”

Froy nods and rubs his hand through his hair, a little flustered. He’s very into this and knows once they start he’s not going to want to stop. 

“Kitchen’s great. Water...great,” he says, grinning and chewing a bit on his lip. Richard cocks his head at him and lets his hand go for just long enough to take down two glasses and fill them with water from the filter. He carries them both, nods his head down the length of the house, which, ok, _is_ pretty awesome and Froy does want to appreciate it...just, later. He nudges himself into moving again and follows Richard up.

“Stairs,” Richard says, sweeping an arm grandly behind himself without spilling any water. 

“Amazing stairs. Have never seen their equal,” Froy declares and Richard genuinely laughs.

“I know right? Wait ‘til you...yeah, here we go.” Richard says as they reach the landing that opens right into a spacious bedroom. Richard goes to one side of the huge, central bed to set the glasses of water down, and Froy just follows him, stays right up in his space. He’s so close, he just wants to smell him, taste him, the anticipation turning on him now, twisting him up. 

Richard turns to him, finally, takes Froy’s hands and pulls his arms around his waist and slides up close, his mouth on Froy’s neck, bristling and warm, and _oh_ he likes it. Richard sits on the bed and heaves Froy down, kind of on top alongside him, and lounges back on the pillows.

Froy ducks down against Richard’s chest and kind of nuzzles with his face, spans his hands around Richard’s hips, then pauses and looks up, just thinking. 

Richard catches his eye. “You nervous?”

Froy snorts a sort of mocking laugh. “Not nervous,” he says, shaking his head and roving his hands over Richard’s body, getting the feel of him. 

It’s true, he’s not nervous, exactly. Maybe he should be, but he feels like he knows his way around. Froy has...not had much trouble getting laid for the past five years. He’s hot, and he was on a popular enough tv show to let him take advantage of that at least a _little_ _._

Richard’s body kind of blows his mind though...and he’s way more experienced than the guys Froy has been with before. He’s not nervous, just very, _very_ excited.

“You can be a _little_ nervous,” Richard teases him, pinching his fingers together and wrinkling his nose at him, keeping it light and it’s very cute.

Froy raises himself up, hovers over Richard and kisses him, long and deep this time and letting their hips and groins finally settle together. Richard tugs his lip between his teeth and Froy moans, gets his hands down between where their bodies are pressed and lifts the hem of Richard’s shirt, finds the waistband of his pants and pauses again. Richard holds his breath.

“Not nervous,” Froy insists, dragging his fingers along the flat, hard planes of his abdomen. “Just thinking about what to do that you’ll like.”

Richard bites his lip and tilts his head back into the pillows, and Froy likes that he’s getting to him. Good. “You know what I like. God knows we’ve texted about it enough,” Richard says.

Froy has to laugh at that. “Uh, yeah, we’ve texted about a lot of things,” he almost blushes thinking about some of them, and Richard catches his cheek in his palm, drags his thumb along the bottom of Froy’s lips.

“Hey. We uh, talked about...a lot of crazy things. You know it’s ok if that was just, like, talk. We don’t actually...I don’t expect to do all of that stuff,” Richard says, a little stammery and flushed himself and it sounds weighty, thick and sweet in Froy’s ears. He likes this, _so_ much. He feels a little hitch in his breath, pauses to catch up.

“Certainly not tonight,” Froy finds his brain and comes back.

Richard laughs again, settles himself. “God, absolutely not tonight. Should I, uh, get you off first maybe. In case I can’t stay awake?”

Froy shakes his head at that, moves to the side of Richard’s hips to get a better position. He’s 21 and he’s horny as hell for this man but he’s surprisingly, stubbornly patient. He really, _really_ wants to do this and he’s going to do it how he wants. 

“No. This is...all me,” he says, determined, kisses Richard again. Richard opens up for Froy’s tongue in his mouth, puts his hands in Froy’s hair and kisses him, lays back as Froy gets his pants undone, sliding his hands up and down his torso as he works his way down. He pushes part of Richard’s shirt up too, dying to get his fill of the chest he’s been seeing in photos, the fruits of Richard’s early morning gym labors. “This is...damn impressive,” Froy says, cupping one of his pectoral muscles in one hand and working the other into his pants.

Richard rolls his head on the pillow, watches what Froy is doing, watches him finally get his hand around his cock. They both groan at the feel of it.. 

Froy has to tear himself away, begrudgingly, from mouth and chest and all the parts of Richard he wants to get to know. He figures if he does a good job here, he’ll get time for all that later. He moves lower, Richard nipping at his mouth as he leaves, and uses both hands to get rid of his pants altogether. 

“Can you…” Froy asks, lifting at the hem of Richard’s shirt and urging it in the direction of up, up and _off_ his body, offended that he’s still wearing it. “Yeah, that’s...damn,” all he can say as Richard half sits up and shucks it the rest of the way off. While he’s semi-upright he makes a grabby move at Froy’s shirt too, has it up and over his head in a beat, and then lays back, hands behind his head, pleased.

Froy sits back on his heels, and they take a long moment just sweeping gazes, looking, taking each other in. 

“You’re fucking gorgeous,” Richard finally says, the air around them feeling thick all of a sudden and Froy takes a sharp, steadying breath. He shakes his head incredulously, moves closer. 

“You’re...this is all, just, ridiculous,” Froy says, strokes his hands all the way down Richard’s body from his neck, over his clavicles and pecs, down his insanely proportioned waist and over his hips to grip behind his massive thighs, and lower himself down, mouth over each of those places, until he reaches the tip of Richard’s hard cock where it lays against his belly. 

He licks around it with little fanfare, no teasing or tricks, until it’s wet enough from either his mouth or Richard’s own body to slide his lips down over it. Richard swears, “ _fuck_ ,” as he reaches for Froy, and Froy feels his strong hands trace his own shoulders up, around his neck, stroke his thumbs in the divot of his throat. He shivers at the firm touch on his sensitive skin, closes his mouth more completely around Richard’s cock. 

Richard thrashes under him, just a bit, like he’s trying not to thrust up, then settles again as Froy takes him all the way in his mouth. He’s big, for sure, and uncut which Froy isn’t the most experienced with aside from his own, but he has a wide jaw and thick lips and he knows what works.

Richard groans as he works him in and out, taking him as deep as he can and then out to press his lips and tongue around the crown.

He catches Richard’s eye when he actually flutters his heavy lashes open to look, watching Froy do this and thrilling him to the tips of his toes. He opens his mouth wider and takes him in again, feels Richard’s hands gently hold the sides of his head, fingers teasing the shell of his ears and moving with him, not fucking or thrusting exactly but guiding, moving with his motion.

“Oh...fuck fuck _fuck_ _,”_ Richard growls again and Froy wonders if it’s an early warning or a _nope, too late_ _,_ kind of sound. He feels it out, waits, breathes damp and heavy around Richard’s cock, looks up at Richard’s face again, contorted a bit and chewing on his lip in pleasure. He nods at Froy, “yeah?” one time, a simple exchange they both understand and yes this is one of the things they texted about a _lot_ , and Froy nods back, feels Richard’s hand cradle the back of his head, the other one still flitting between Froy’s ear and jaw and lips as he gives a few, hard, purposeful jolts into Froy’s throat and comes with a high-pitched whine, hot salt coating the back of Froy’s tongue. 

Froy furrows his brow as he sucks, concentrates on swallowing, on licking it all clean for Richard, as Richard shudders and smacks his own lips and makes nonsense sounds on the pillows, dissolving into quiet murmurs as Froy crawls back up his body, dizzy with his first go at this, with him.

Richard’s eyes are closed and his smile is serene, spent. He feels for Froy and pulls him in, kisses him kindly, lazily, his tongue dipping between Froy’s lips to taste his mouth. Froy shudders and rubs his cheek on the pillow, Richard heavy beside him and his own cock throbbing with interest, and urgency, but he knows.

“You’re totally going to pass out now,” he laughs, softly sets his teeth into Richard’s bare shoulder.

“Mmmm. Just need five minutes. You wrecked me,” Richard drawls, his accent almost incoherent. 

“Oh it’s my fault, I see,” Froy says, soothes his palm over Richard’s chest.

“‘Tis. I’m not a bad date, I swear. Not that asshole. Just...resting my eyes for a moment.”

“I know you’re not an asshole,” Froy says, kisses the top of his pectoral muscle, because he’s sacked out and weakened by what Froy hopes was an amazing orgasm, and his body is _right_ there, so. He kisses, touches that skin, traces a line of muscle down his ribs to his hips. _Fuck._

“Do not leave. Please. I promise. Gonna make it up to you,” Richard stirs a bit, seeming to drift in and out of sleep mid-words, and Froy has to laugh softly to himself because this is _ridiculous_ , already was, and is now even more so.

“Mmmm, ok. Am I...just going to watch you sleep,” Froy asks quietly and gets no answer, just a gentle rumble of breath from Richard’s parted lips. “Kinda creepy...ok.” Froy gives up, settles next to him and watches his chest, his face. _How did I get here?_ he keeps thinking to himself, reaches up with one hand and rubs at the hinge of his jaw where he can feel the slightest reminder of his exertions. 

He watches Richard sleep for a few minutes, then realizes he really wants that water now, and his bag, which is very inconveniently in his car. He hopes Richard sleeps heavily, and carefully gets out of bed, grabs the shirt he took off and the glass of water, and his phone so he can snoop his way to finding a bathroom in this place.

The stairs are extremely solid and quiet, and Richard doesn’t even stir when Froy heads down. He drinks his water, checks out the rest of the rooms including the downstairs guest bath, and makes his way as quietly as possible to the outside door and his car. 

He gets his bag, drinks more water, brushes his teeth, and still hasn’t heard any activity from upstairs, so he scans the hundreds of books on the wall, and makes himself comfortable on the huge, cozy couch. He texts his mom a very vague update, _todo bien_ _,_ and scrolls through his phone for a while.

Richard has been sleeping for about forty-five minutes when Froy’s brain starts trying to fuck with him, and he suddenly wonders if he misread this _entirely,_ was supposed to take this as his cue and get his ass out the door already. He’s trying to argue with himself that he knows Richard a tiny bit better than that and no, that’s not right, when thank _god_ he hears shuffling footsteps and sees lights glow softly on at the top of the stairs. 

He gets up and stretches, rolls his neck and shoulders out, and goes to the bottom of the stairwell. He’s biting his lip, feeling anxious again while waiting just a moment to see what happens, when Richard pokes his head down and sees Froy there. He’s a little rumpled from sleep, entirely whole ass naked, and puts his face in his palm immediately.

“Oh my god, you must hate me.”

Froy laughs. “I promise I don’t. Feel better?”

“I mean...yes? No? I’m so sorry. I’m supposed to be a lot cooler than this, I swear.”

“I never once thought you were cool, don’t worry.”

“Ok, well. You stayed. Tha’s good.”

“I did. I am well hydrated and caught up on my twitter mentions.”

“Alright, well. You want to...come back up?” Richard says, rubbing his hand over his hair in the most endearing way.

Froy purses his lips like he’s thinking about it, drags his toes across the bottom step. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess I will,” he says as he takes the wide shallow steps up.

“Well, thank you very much,” Richard says, holding out his hand. Froy takes it, takes the last couple of steps in stride, and then they’re right back where they left off, only Richard has rested.

“I, mmmm…” Richard hums as he trails off, leaving kisses from Froy’s mouth up the line of his jaw and finding a place right at the corner of his neck and ear that makes him feel a little weak. “You were really good at that,” Richard breathes out into his ear and he actually shivers.

Richard grabs him up toward him, hands under his ass and almost lifting him this time. They fumble their way back to the bed and Richard drops him fully onto it, Froy’s back hitting the mattress. “Um...thanks?” Froy tries to answer kind of dumbly, when _fuck he’s really strong_ _,_ is really all he can think. 

He runs his hands up Richard’s arms and shoulders, smoothing them over his back again and again as Richard presses him down, kisses him long and deep, touching the edges of Froy’s lips and the bones of his jaw as he takes from his mouth, gives him his tongue. “Good kisser, too.”

Froy hums a sound of appreciation against his mouth and just gives in, lets him take over and have him, Richard kissing him until he’s practically shaking out of his skin. His dick is aching, stiff up against his belly by the time Richard stands up and starts to undress him.

“Didn’t I already take this damn shirt off?” Richard jokes and they laugh, pulling Froy out of his clothes and tossing them aside. Then they’re both very naked and Froy feels very vulnerable but also...this is _really_ hot. Richard lifts him up a little higher on the bed, crawls right down over top of him, their cocks finally brushing stiffly against each other as he kisses him some more. 

“Just wanna kiss you naked for a while. So fucking hot, I can’t believe…” Richard murmurs and it’s downright indecent what his voice, so low and open and his mouth, are doing to Froy.

“Me...you...what the fuck, you’re so hot...I’m gonna come in like ten seconds if you’re not careful,” Froy groans as Richard holds him down, palm to palm and pressing him flat into the bed as their dicks continue a languorous stroke against each other, and nope, Froy’s not going to make it.

“Nooo, you’re not,” Richard laughs and backs off, lifts his hips away and lays sort of alongside him instead, kissing his neck and shoulder. “Not yet. Fuck. Are you really gonna let me fuck you? I know we talked about it but…” Richard says, then wickedly leans down to flick his tongue across Froy’s nipple, after asking a question like that. His nipples are tight and sensitive, and the sensation makes him buck his hips a little, though the rest of him is trying to laugh.

“Oh my god, we’ve literally talked about it for a month. Yes, yes I want that. You’re not going to make me beg…” Froy fake scolds Richard, still biting back a laugh because he’s just so charmed by how differently this is going than it was in his imagination. 

“Just a little?” Richard grins and rolls into him again, grabs behind one of Froy’s thighs and hitches it up around his waist.

Froy shakes his head and lifts up into his grip to kiss him again, pinches one of his nipples back, for his trouble. He wants him so much. “No.”

“And call me Daddy?” Richard smiles even bigger, erupting into a full on laugh that catches Froy too and then they’re just being ridiculous.

“Do you want to fuck me or not?” Froy finally says, flopping back onto the pillows and tilting his hips up against Richard, in what he hopes is a tantalizing way.

“Tha’s the opposite of begging,” Richard says with a _tsk_ , kisses Froy one last time, biting at the corner of his mouth as he pulls away and gets his footing back. “Bossy. I like it though.”

Richard gets up off him and nudges him to roll over, picking up some pillows from the pile and shifting them around, and yes, now they’re getting somewhere good, Froy thinks. He tries to look sexy turning over onto his stomach, leaning up on his arms so he can watch what Richard is thinking. He looks determined, and so hot, and Froy has to put his face down between his arms for a second to compose himself. Then Richard tells him to lift his hips.

“Oh...fuck yeah,” Froy says with a moan, and shifts back onto his thighs so Richard can arrange the pillows how he wants him. He is kind of particular, intentional with it, kissing Froy along the way and just barely grazing the sides of his ass with an edge of his hand as he works.

When he apparently likes how Froy is hitched up here, he presses Froy’s chest back down, almost sweetly, leaving Froy’s hips and ass tilted up, his thighs spread wide for Richard to fit behind them and oh. It’s extremely vulnerable, and obviously revealing from Richard’s point of view, but as Froy settles his hips into the props it’s also quite comfortable. 

He can sense, behind him, Richard just looking, and touching, and he’s quiet and it’s a little weird but also...nice. “You’re good at this,” he mumbles into his arms, feels Richard’s hands gently spreading him a little open now, and oh, fuck.

“Haven’t even done anything yet,” Richard answers, and Froy can feel him close, very close, his breath and the light brush of his beard stubble closer than he thought. A finger touches the very, very top of his ass, that spot at the base of his spine that both tickles and sends electricity shooting through every nerve of his body at once, and he gasps a little. 

“Yeah...but...you’re good. I can tell,” he explains, already breathy to his own ears and shuddering as Richard does it again, touches that same spot and then kisses over top of it. “Oh god…” Froy says, his nerves firing every which way with sensations, anxiety, anticipation finally boiling over, everything so much his dick doesn’t even know what to do.

Richard hums, sounding very content and pleased with whatever he’s doing. “I can’t believe no one’s done this to you before. I’m offended on your behalf,” Richard says, and then dips his tongue between Froy’s cheeks and licks over him, and oh, fuck. 

“I...oh my god,” Froy sputters, sure he was trying to say something clever in defense of his previous sexual experience but it all goes out the window.

“What’s wrong with those boys?” Richard asks, muffled by flesh in his teeth, biting Froy, gentle nibbles followed by his tongue all along the cleft of his ass and Froy is going to _die_ it feels, so....

“What...um…” Froy tries, helplessly. 

“Yeah, exactly. This arse is…” that’s the last thing Richard really says that makes sense, because after that his mouth is committed to making Froy feel every sensation he’s never felt before, all at once. The wetness and the flicker of his tongue and the intensity with which Richard uses it to slick him up and tease him open is overwhelming and all Froy can do is pulse his hips, moan and pump against the pillows Richard has placed him on as Richard completely wrecks him in a way he has never felt. 

“Ohhh, you _like_ that.” It is a statement, not a question, and Richard is _not_ wrong. “I like it too...yeah, let me hear you. Fucking gorgeous, babe,” Richard mutters and doubles down, spreading him a little wider and teasing the sides of his rim more open with his fingertips. Froy is gulping on air, trying to at least somewhat subdue the sounds coming from his throat but he can’t help it, he truly can’t, the feeling of Richard’s mouth on him just undoing him. He moans and shudders and Richard moans, and licks, over and over against his tender, sensitive skin there, and Froy can’t believe this is happening to him.

“Mmmmf, yeah, fuck...you...want you to fuck me...please fuck me, don’t stop, that’s so fucking...oh god, yeah,” Froy is reduced to almost incoherent babbling as Richard keeps flicking his tongue around and just inside his ass and moaning to himself, and Froy can feel that too, and he might come, he might...if Richard would give him a finger he could.

“Uh huh, you almost begged. Thought so,” Richard says from between his ass cheeks, gives him a decent slap on one of his buttocks just to punctuate it. 

Froy growls into the bed. “Can you _—_ ” he tries to ask for something and gestures wildly behind himself, probably looks ridiculous but he doesn’t care anymore, he needs that feeling.

But Richard is right there, has lube on his hand and a finger pressing into Froy and god where did that even _come from_ but Froy doesn’t care. Richard’s fingers are spreading him open and he can fuck himself onto them a little now and he doesn’t even care how slutty he looks. 

“Oh fuck, yes, I want you. Want you so bad, this is…” Froy babbles, knows he sounds cock-starved and desperate for it already and he just can’t care. They’ve spent months building up to this and talking each other up and getting each other hungry for it and he wants the whole thing, and now. “You can, you know. Everything we....what we talked about,” Froy groans as Richard licks his rim, right around where Froy can feel his finger, now two fingers carefully sliding in and out of him and he’s going to die if he doesn’t get this cock in him.

“You’re sure it’s ok?” Richard asks, still fucking Froy with his fingers but looking at him seriously for a moment, just to check in, and Froy does appreciate it, though they talked at length about how they both really wanted to do this bare and how to do that safely.

“Yes, totally sure, promise,” Froy answers, hoping he sounds slightly less desperate than he feels, because he got on PrEP and everything and he really _really_ wants Richard to fuck him, like _now_.

“Fuck you’re...you’re so good. Gonna fuck you so fucking good,” Richard says, voice breathy and thick, intently thrusting those two fingers in and out and curling them up when he gets deep enough, deep enough to just glance over Froy’s prostate and he almost screams, bites into his arm to stop himself. “Like this? I can just...oh, fuck,” Richard says as he slips his fingertips out and brings the head of his cock to take their place. Froy feels it pushing, slick, thick, breaching him. He nods enthusiastically into the pillows, licks his lips and turns to try to see Richard, to watch his face.

“Yeah, good? Like this?” Richard keeps asking and pushing just the head of his cock into Froy and then slipping it out and just watching his reaction, and Froy feels like he’s going to die.

“A little more...good...yeah, like that,” Froy says and rocks back a bit on his thighs, moves Richard more inside him than either of them were maybe ready for and they both let out a groan.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck you feel so good,” Richard swears and grips Froy by the hips, pulls him back onto his cock and Froy gasps as he feels it push inside him, deeper, hitting a good spot. He grinds back, looking for it again and Richard grabs him by his chest, pulls him up and back and fully onto him so Froy can twist his head around and kiss him while they fuck, was actually _looking_ for that, and that alone sends a thrill down Froy’s spine entirely separate from the stimulation inside him. 

Richard thrusts into him, tongue and cock together making him whimper, shamelessly, and he realizes his arms and hands are free now and he can touch his own cock, and holy fuck does he need to. He shudders as he wraps his fingers around the head and strokes, tugs on his dick while Richard holds him and fucks him from underneath, kissing along his oversensitive neck. His whole body feels oversensitive, even his hand on his own cock too much, and Richard takes notice, kisses him deep and slows everything down, whispers soft sounds in his ear.

“C’mere, I got you...I’m gonna move...like this, yeah,” Richard says, holding Froy tight around his chest, his dick still tight in the clutch of Froy’s body and managing to move their legs and sprawl them both out more or less on their sides, Richard spooned up behind him and draping his arm around his hips. Froy relaxes back against his chest and it feels so good, Richard giving him slow, shallow thrusts and nuzzling his face into his neck.

“That’s better, yeah? You feel so _good_ _,_ gorgeous, tell me it feels good?” Richard purrs in his fucking ear and he can’t, still can’t quite believe this is happening. He’s basically shimmering at this point everything feels so good. He can’t possibly put a descriptive sentence together. He grabs Richard’s hand on his hip and brings it up to his mouth, kisses across his knuckles, lets his lip drag across them. 

“So, so good. You’re...yeah, _really_ good. Go harder now, harder,” Froy says, losing his words on his breath.

A low sound in Richard’s chest rumbles against his back as he bends slightly to put more power into it, bringing his arm back down Froy’s body and taking his cock in hand. Froy shivers again and feels all those sensations that were overwhelming him, spinning him in too many directions a moment ago, starting to focus together, feels a dull but relentless pulsing of pleasure inside every time Richard fucks into him. He works his hand, in concert with his thrusts, over the head of Froy’s cock, now slick with wetness.

“Fuck, oh god, yeah, yeah, don’t stop,” Froy starts to babble as that feeling grows and makes him less and less articulate. Richard whines at that, amps up the intensity of his strokes, of his kisses and bites on Froy’s shoulder, Froy’s head rolling back against his as they slide into this rhythm together.

“‘m not, don’ worry,” Richard says, his whole body flush with Froy’s and the jut of his hips sending jolts of pleasure through Froy’s whole body on every single movement. He can feel it now, building and twisting inside him, and he has to dig his feet into the bed to push back against Richard to get every bit of him he can. He’s going to come and it’s going to be _amazing_.

“I’m...yeah, god, so good, so good, please, please, fuck,” Froy loses it, abandons his promise that he would _not_ beg—he would do anything right about now.

“Yeah, gorgeous, come on my cock, come on, let me feel you,” Richard grits out, his teeth pressed against Froy’s back in the space between his shoulder blades. He twists his hand one more time over the head of Froy’s cock and buries himself inside him as Froy feels his orgasm hit him hard, his body curling in on itself in Richard’s arms, his cock pulsing in Richard’s hand. 

He’s moaning, _yelling_ _,_ but doesn’t know what he’s saying, and Richard is saying “yes, yes, so good,” smearing his come into both of their skin, wrapping himself around Froy and holding him through it. 

Froy clings to him tight, vaguely hearing himself muttering softly, “keep going, keep going, come on,” while he’s still coming down from undoubtedly the best orgasm he’s ever had, and Richard is still inside him.

“I’m going to...it’s alright, yeah? Oh fuck fuck _fuck—_ ” Richard growls, grabbing him so hard he’ll leave fingerprint bruises on his hips, Froy hopes, as he nods wildly. 

“Yeah, do it, come on,” Froy manages to say just as he feels Richard go tense, all those strong muscles contracting around him and squeezing him so tight he can barely move or breathe and then feels it release at once. He hears Richard gasp for breath over his shoulder and then go lax as he comes inside him, feels the warmth and fullness, so weird, so good, and Richard murmuring kisses and nonsense into the back of his neck and pulling his face closer, tilting him by his jaw so he can pour his tongue into Froy’s mouth while he comes, smiling against his lips. 

Froy can’t seem to _stop_ smiling, but grimaces a bit when Richard finally has to move them a bit, slides himself out, “sorry, sorry, ugh, I know,” and soothes him with kisses once he’s done it. Froy can’t coordinate his muscles very well, but he can feel his ass, tender and used and also pretty full of come, which could get unpleasant as time passes but at the moment, with Richard rolling him over on his other side and pulling him up to properly kiss him, he doesn’t think he minds.

Richard licks into his mouth, hums a little sigh of satisfaction and rests his sweaty forehead against Froy’s. “Do you want me to...can I please touch?”

Froy almost laughs. “So polite,” he says, nods his head softly and rolls slightly forward onto his belly, lets Richard look, and touch, feels his fingers again tracing his rim, gently pulling and pushing a bit of his come in and out and groaning, guttural and downright indecent. Froy props his head up on one hand and watches him, amused and already somewhat aroused when he realizes Richard is palming his own softening cock with his other hand.

“Wow, again, already?” Froy asks, impressed.

Richard smirks, gives his ass a little pat in parting as he neatly takes his fingers away and smoothes over the cleft of Froy’s ass, caressing again over that ticklish spot. “Sometimes. And no. And I wish. You’re amazing,” he says, leans to kiss him again.

“You too,” Froy says, wrinkling his nose as Richard kisses him, because he knows damn well he looks adorable doing it. “Um...we were like, really good at that.”

Richard sighs with agreement, brings one hand up to drag his thumb along Froy’s jaw, nods into the kiss. “Really good. Glad you came,” he says. Froy feels a little quiver on his next intake of breath.

“Definitely. Glad you’re _here_ _,_ finally,” he says with an awkward little shrug of his shoulders.

Richard touches his face, kisses him again, then looks away and up at the ceiling. “Would you...stay the night?” 

“Uh, yeah. Of course,” Froy answers. Like it was even a question.

“Would you like a shower?” Richard says, bites his lip, and Froy has to kiss him again. _Fuck._

“Yes. Very much. And we’re ordering more food right?” Froy asks, pushing his hair back from his face and carefully starting to sit up. He’s only half kidding.

“Oh my god, we’re ordering _all_ the food,” Richard promises with a grin.

* * *

Froy wakes up with much more sunlight streaming in through the windows than he is used to. The sheets are coming loose at the bottom of the bed and mostly tossed on top of him, so he’s cozy and covered when he opens his eyes and rolls over. He stretches out and his legs and arms have plenty of room, nice. His body feels worked over and sore and gently used, but he’s definitely not complaining. He’s thinking about sitting up and looking for his phone when Richard comes back up the stairs, carrying two cups of coffee.

“Oh my god. I’m never going to leave if this is the kind of service you provide,” Froy says, rubbing his eyes and reaching excitedly for coffee.

“I put almond milk in it. I hope that’s alright,” Richard says, bringing his cup and sitting on the other side of the bed. He reaches over and lays a warm hand across Froy’s flank where the sheet is pulled back, exposing his skin in the bright sunlight. “You got any plans for today?” 

Froy immediately arches an eyebrow. “No but I’m getting the idea you have some,” he says, sips his coffee again and then shimmies over in the bed, closer, so he can get up against Richard’s warm body.

“Want to go hiking with me?” Richard says, squeezes Froy’s upper thigh suggestively.

Froy smiles slowly, leans in for a kiss. “I would love to go hiking,” he says as Richard’s hand slides up into the crease of his groin. “You mean after, right?”

Richard sets the coffee cups down on the bedside table and kisses the side of his mouth. “After. _Obviously."_

* * *

They grab breakfast, snacks and protein smoothies on the way to Topanga, and it’s a good thing because Richard’s idea of a casual hike is a nearly seven mile, three hour adventure. Froy is in good shape but Richard in his rugged element is something else. 

There are very few people out, on a sunny but cool weekday morning. Richard finds it “quite pleasant” at 60 degrees and takes his shirt off, which only slightly distracts Froy from the views all around them. 

“Wow,” Froy says when they round the last switchback and the full expanse of coastline comes into view. “I’ve never hiked this side. This is insane!”

“Yeah. Love it out here. I know the Westside is like, kinda bumfuck. But I have to be near the sea. Looks like home,” Richard says, opens a bottle of water and drinks half of it in one go.

“Nice. I’ve been to London. Never been to Scotland,” Froy says, just kind of meandering thoughts out loud. 

“Tis gorgeous,” Richard says proudly. “But, also, rained frozen ice darts there this morning, so,” he shrugs and grins, looks up into the sun. Froy alternates looking at the view and looking at Richard, tries not to be creepy about it. It’s just...hard not to look. Richard doesn’t seem to mind.

They take some selfies and landscape photos to post later on, stand and admire the blue water of the bay far below, and make out just a little until some mountain bikers come tearing down the next fire road over, interrupting them. Richard puts on another half tube of fancy sunscreen for the way down, tricks Froy into swiping some on his face when he comes in close for a quick kiss.

“I don’t need it,” Froy says, protesting slightly but giggling about it.

“Ye do! You’ve got freckles, ye need it. Trust me, don’t wanna have my skin when you're my age,” Richard fusses, wiping across Froy’s cheekbones with his thumb.

It’s sweet, but. “Ok we get one age joke each, per day,” Froy says, rolling his eyes at Richard, realizing too late that maybe makes him seem even less mature. 

Richard looks over at him and frowns. “Sorry. Can’t help how old I am or that you’re twenty-one.”

“I know I am. I just don’t want it to be a thing. I mean it’s not like the _only thing_ _,”_ Froy says, shrugs, kind of annoyed.

Richard leans into him a little, rests his head on Froy’s shoulder, and Froy takes a chance and drapes his arm around Richard’s back. His skin is warm and sticky with sweat. 

“It’s not. You’re right,” Richard says. “I’ll try to choose my one per day very carefully, though. Now come on.” Richard smacks him on the ass and kisses his jaw. “We jog at least half the way down. Try to keep up.” 

“Fuck...alright,” Froy says. He laughs nervously and stretches his hamstrings.

* * *

Froy drives them back, sun-kissed and happily worn out. The pool service came while they were out and the cover is off, the water clean, warm, and way too inviting to pass up. Hiking clothes come off right there in the courtyard, the landscaping and design of the house providing total privacy.

“Emilia had _literally_ _one_ house rule and we’re about to break it, ah,” Richard says as Froy slides up against him in the lush water. Froy wraps his legs around Richard’s waist almost immediately, the buoyancy of the deep water too much to resist. He hangs on, arms around Richard’s neck and mouth open for wet, insistent kisses along his lips and jaw.

“She couldn’t actually think you weren’t going to have sex with _someone_ in this pool,” Froy asks, dubious of that kind of house rule, obviously begging to be broken. He just feels so lucky it’s him. “We’ll be careful. Besides, did I spill anything last night?” Froy asks, a bit offended that his blow job skills are even up for debate.

Richard hoists him up higher and bites at his chest and shoulders, Froy gasping with pleasure at the bright little prickles of pain, at the cool breeze on his wet skin. “No, you surely did not. Not a drop. However…” Richard says, swinging him around in the water and laying him on the smooth stone of the shallow ledge of the pool. “Tis my turn, and I’m not one to spill any either,” Richard grins, wickedly taking Froy’s cock in his hand and stroking it hard. 

It doesn’t take much, obviously, and Froy is ready to buck up into his hand. Richard presses his hips flat to keep him still, then takes him in his mouth. He untangles Froy’s long legs and lowers them from around his waist, letting his hands wander up and down Froy’s thighs and sore calves. He massages them, firm pressure from strong fingers, while he mouths at his cock until Froy relaxes _everything_ , lets go of his whole body and dangles his feet and legs in the pool, the water swirling around him while Richard takes him down. 

The afternoon sun is warm on his chest and face, and Richard has him completely engulfed in his mouth, drawing him in, sucking and squeezing at the creases of his hips, his ass, Froy trying desperately to keep quiet because they’re outside in the middle of the day, but Richard doesn’t seem to care. He gulps air and groans and Richard just hums around his cock, unrushed and unbothered, until Froy arches his back and comes down Richard’s throat with a shudder, foot kicking out a splash.

Richard grabs him up in his arms while he’s still drifting on the high, too weak to move his own muscles, and pulls him right back into the water. He holds him, lets him float there, happy, weightless, touches his forehead with a soft kiss. 

“Good?” Richard asks, sweet and a little smug, but he has every right to be, Froy muses to himself. 

“Mmm hmmm,” he murmurs mindlessly, his brain and body quiet, and content. “Not a drop.”

* * *

He comes back on Friday and stays until Sunday, because Richard has a business dinner. Froy’s roommate has some questions, but says he doesn’t mind feeding the fish if Froy has a sure thing. Froy kind of thinks he does, and that is almost unbelievable. But he’s going with it.

He comes back again on Tuesday and stays until Thursday, which is silly because he turns right around and comes back on Friday. On Saturday, they walk down to Abbot Kinney to get smoothies and coffee, like they’ve done at least a half dozen times already, and their luck runs out.

Froy is back at his apartment on Sunday when a friend texts him the paparazzi photos. 

_the king in the north???? bro. icb i’m saying this but hella jelly ur gay rn_

“Oh. Shit,” he whispers to himself as he clicks the link. Within minutes he has panicked himself into being absolutely certain that Richard will never want to see him again. 

In his anxiety spiral freakout, he doesn’t realize until it’s too late that this means his mom is about to find out.

He flops around in his bed for a while, freaked out and feeling sorry for himself and only _just_ beginning a larger scale panic regarding what this means in terms of...coming out? Does he have to...do that? Like, say something? Why doesn’t he have a good publicist yet, _ugh_ , Richard probably has someone whose only job is to give him advice with things like this. 

His phone rings and he wants to ignore it, but he cracks one eye open and makes himself look, and it’s him. Fuck fuck _fuck_.

“Hi,” he says, cautiously, hoping against hope Richard’s not mad.

“Hey. You’re alright? I am so, so sorry. I didn’t even see that guy—” Richard launches in and Froy is taken aback.

“Wait, me? I’m fine...you’re not mad at me?” Froy asks, his voice pitching up and betraying him, his nerves.

Richard sounds stricken. “What? Why on earth would I be?”

“I don’t know, I figured...being out like that, with a guy...you like your privacy. Maybe alone no one would have noticed, or something?”

“Froy, sweetheart, that doesn’t even make sense. Paps snap my photo, it’s uh...annoying but I’m somewhat used to it. Not your fault, not at all. I felt worse...you’re not...I mean I know about your friends and family and such, but if nobody knew about you, now there’ll be speculation...I’m so sorry,” Richard says, at length, sounding so devastated Froy can’t even really get a grasp on this conversation.

“My parents know. My family that matter know. I...the other stuff...whatever, I guess I’ll have to call my useless agent tomorrow.”

“Can I see you? Do you want me to drive over to the Eastside? I feel so bad, Froy,” Richard asks and this is not the response he expected at all. And he definitely didn’t expect _that._

“Nooooo, no. You don’t need to, uh,” Froy looks around at his messy apartment with one empty room recently vacated by a friend who moved out, his roommate’s video game controllers strewn all over their crappy furniture, his tropical fish in their little plastic house. “No need for that. I can...come back, if you want?”

“S’a long drive,” Richard says, still sounding deflated and Froy just wants to climb in his lap and kiss them both through this.

“I don’t mind. I was going to do laundry when my phone blew up. I can just...finish up and head over. Ok?”

“You were not doing laundry. Liar.” Richard pokes at him, thank god, lightening the mood considerably.

“I was thinking about doing laundry,” Froy amends, dragging his toe into the plush of the rug by his bed.

“That I believe. Bring your laundry here?” Richard suggests, like it’s just. Obvious. What?

“No that’s. Weird. Isn’t it?”

“Why is it weird? I wash sheets at least twice a day thanks to you. Might as well throw all your kit in, aye?”

“You know I love it when you say Scottish things,” Froy says, low and seductive and Richard laughs.

“Aye, do ken it now. Kindly get your arse over here, would ye?”

“Si, llega pronto,” Froy replies.

“I don’t know much Spanish but I know pronto. I like that one,” Richard says.

“You’re gonna learn some Spanish,” Froy says, like it’s not up for discussion.

“Get off the phone so you can come over here,” Richard reminds.

“Ok ok I’m going.”

“And call your mum,” Richard sneaks in, and, _shit_.

“You...call your mom,” Froy says, because he’s an absolute idiot.

“Thanks I think I will. Hanging up now,” Richard says and Froy can feel him smiling on the other end. He’s so fucked, but it’s good.

“Pronto,” he says again.

Richard repeats him. “Pronto.”

* * *

“I was thinking about all those things we used to text about, back when we first started talking,” Froy says, sprawled upside down on the bed a week or so later. The sheets are wrecked and so is Richard, stretching out at the other end and catching his breath. “We can do like. Ninety percent of them, I’d say.” 

“Ninety?” Richard squeaks, his voice a bit raspy, alarmed and amused in roughly equal amounts. He flings his arm over the side and finds his phone. “We’ve already done like. Twenty. Twenty-five maybe after that,” he says, thumb scrolling rapid-fire over his screen. “Even this?” he grins, holding a message up for Froy, to refresh his memory.

Froy lifts up on his elbows to see what it says and immediately cringes, cracks up laughing. “Oh. _Jesus. I_ wrote that? Ok maybe seventy-five.” He climbs back up the bed the right way, ducks his head against Richard’s chest.

“Seventy-five is still looking _pretty_ good for me,” Richard says, sleepily kissing the top of Froy’s head where it lays.

“I’d say it’ll be very enjoyable for both of us,” Froy says, fully relaxing into his arms.

“Though,” Richard says, stroking up and down his back, “it’ll probably take a while. You know. Getting to some of those...can’t just jump in right away.”

“No, definitely not…” Froy replies, leading Richard along because he likes where this is heading.

“I,” Richard pauses, like he’s looking for the right words, and Froy lifts his head, looks right at him so he can watch him squirm. “I wonder if you might want to, like, not have to drive back and forth so much. You could, ah, bring some more things here. If you wanted,” he finally finishes and lets out a relieved breath.

Froy makes a face. “You saying you want me to come stay here?”

Richard smiles shyly, and kisses him, firm and promising. “Aye. I would like that very much.”


End file.
